Making Good Use of Time

    My reign as Queen of the Small Gardens continues as I am still following orders of doctors and Son.  "There shall be no unsupervised, unescorted hikes beyond the garden gates."  Even though I understand this to be for my own safety, it still wears thin.  I am used to roaming free and communicating with Mother Nature on a one to one basis.  This bit of being confined is not to my liking but I shall continue.  I do, however, adore being queen of something so if it has to be of gardens, then so be it.  The gardens it is!

  This morning, I pondered just what interesting sight I could find to occupy the pent up brain.  I figure just because my body is in "jail" that does not mean my imagination has to be.  Let it fly!  I found long ago that there are no barriers on how far you can go by using the wonders of the imagination.  

  My eyes scanned the small garden until a dark green patch caught my eye!  Ahh, yes!  A bit of moss was well hidden in one shady corner.  Here, there must live the faeries!  Those wee winged creatures that haunt the flower vines and wisp among the lilies.  My brain was sent into a tailspin as I traveled back to building faerie gardens with Aunt Helen.  The moss was the perfect carpeting, empty acorn shells were goblets and any pebbles provided ample seating.  The faeries were going to attend a Magical Ball!  Colored leaves and flower petals added a bit of brightness as they were hung from twigs.  A large shell filled with water became a gazing pool of sorts.  Memories of Aunt Helen swirled with the dancing faeries and my morning became filled with happiness.

  No, I did not build my faerie house on the fine moss carpet but I did fill the time with imaginative stories.  Time can be our ally or our enemy...it all depends on how we use it.  I choose to fill it with happy thoughts instead of trying to inflict my ideas on others.  

A Friend With Sage Advice

  It seemed to be a fine day for making a new friend but, since I rarely leave the Bayou and since not many folks come to visit, there was a slim chance of doing so.  The morning passed with not a person in sight and all hopes of a bit of quality time being spent with anyone were quickly dying.  Well, if it had to be that way, so be it.  I value my alone time highly and should not complain if the day should include nary another soul.  That is the way of life for me.  I tend to be content with what is thrown my way.  Today would be no different.

  Along about noontime, the sun was warm, the skies were blue and a hike seemed to be in order.  Meandering about the Bayou fills me with wonder as there is never any lack of magical occurrences found there.  Usually, the hike begins and ends at the pier.  A huge loop takes me around the marsh and deep into the creek bed.  Under the dark canopy of trees, magic is sure to happen but, this time, that magic happened in a sunny spot directly down the hill from the front door.  As the path twisted and turned, a bright splotch of sunshine found my new friend.  Here was the very being that I was supposed to visit since dawn.  Coiled upon some brambles, a black racer was basking in the warmth.  It did not take but a moment for the realization that my "new friend" would not be human but was to be this snake.  Dropping to my knees, I settled in to let it know that all was well between the two of us.  The snake made no effort to move as we sat just inches apart.  At times, I would rest my hand on the very bramble where it was resting.  A mutual respect was being shared.  A good hour was spent doing nothing more than appreciating the magic of the Bayou with my new friend.

  According to some legends, snakes can represent many things such as transformation, creativity and healing.  The transformation of oneself into a better person seems to be a pretty good idea and a boost in creativity is always needed but it was the healing that was brought to mind with this encounter.  It was time to discard any "venom".   For the past few months, things around here have been sort of topsy-turvy so my brain was in dire need of a good cleansing.  It was high time to purge the negativity that had accumulated and rejuvenate the spirit that dwells inside.  I could do this...I can do this...I will do this.  Life is good only if we choose to make it that way.  There is no time to stand idle and let things slide.  

  The time spent with the snake was refreshing to the soul.  It felt as though the two of us bonded through just being.  Whether I see this friend again is not important.  The message that I gained is, however.  It is funny how critters can sometimes speak volumes more than humans who supposedly have the talent to talk.  Communication with most people is little more than inane prattle.  Communication of thoughts is the key.  The hour was well spent with a fine friend, indeed.

Calling on the Bayou Magic

  A friend called me last night and made an unusual request.  "Man, I don't feel well.  Can I come find some peace on the Bayou?"   It seems that her jobs (she works three), her family and her physical health are all wreaking havoc on her mental state at the moment.  She needs a break from it all and knows that the Bayou can bring peace to even the most stressful situations.  "You need the Magic of the Bayou to heal the emotional wounds and some herbal concoctions to heal the sickness of your body." I told her.  

  I have often felt that the Bayou offers peace to those who need it most.  There is something that draws those who are weak, stressed or merely confused.  Once here, the magic starts to infiltrate their minds and, by the time they are ready to depart, all is well once again.  No one can see it.  No one can hear it.  But all can feel it.  It sneaks in to push out all troubles.

  So, she will come to the Bayou.  She will receive a few tisanes to heal the body and then will soak up a heapin' helpin' of Bayou Magic to soothe the mind.  Life is good here.  The Bayou Magic can always wash way the troubles.

What a Battle!

  Since the heavy rains last week, fishing has been poor on the Bayou.  Fresh water has come barreling down through the rivers and creeks to make our normally salty or brackish water unusually fresh.  This has pushed our salt-loving fish out to deeper waters and left us with things like bass, shellcrackers and perch. While those will do in a pinch, I am spoiled by the flavor of saltwater fish.  Freshwater fish just do not taste right.  

  Today, all that changed and our fish came back.  After a few tide changes, we are back in business!  The fish are biting and the Bay is filled with little mullet to use as bait.  Early this afternoon, my friend, Darlene, came to visit and, as usual, we wound up on the pier. While she piddled around catching small croakers, I decided to go after the big fish.  A six inch long mullet was chosen as a bait and I tossed the line out far from the pier.  First bite and I had a 17 inch long speckled trout.  Nice!  This was going to be a good day!  I baited the hook with another six inch long mullet and tossed the line again.  It wasn't long before the line started zipping out.  I set the hook and immediately could tell that this was a huge fish.  "Here", I told Darlene, "Catch this fish."  She argued a bit but I shoved the pole at her.  "Yeah, right!  You want me to reel in your catfish." she said before even taking the pole.  At that point the line started singing as it was being pulled out.  The drag on the reel was not even slowing down this fish.  "Hold the pole up!" I told her.  "Get the fish on the top of the water!"  By experience, I knew that if she let that fish stay deep, she would never be able to land it.  

  It was a good thirty minute battle between my friend and the huge fish.  I knew she had a gigantic red drum but I did not know just how big it really was.  Just as I thought she was going to give out and grow too tired to reel any longer, the fish came to the top.  "Its a redfish!!!" she yelled as her strength was renewed.  "Yup." I agreed while I was photographing her battle.  Then came time to land the fish.  Scooping that thing in the net was a problem and it was a greater ordeal to get him up on the pier but we did.  Now to measure.....44 inches!!!!!  That was one big bull red!  I heard a thump and looked over to see Darlene flat on her back!  Side by side, Darlene and the fish laid on the pier.  Both were exhausted!  She had her fish and the big grin on her face proved that she had won the battle.

On The Mend

  The old dog, Mr. PJ has been suffering a good bit with his arthritis, as of late.  The poor, old dog would yelp in pain with each shift in position as he tried to nap.  His back legs stiffened to the point that he could hardly walk.  He was mighty uncomfortable, to say the least, and getting him up and down the steps of the Little Bayou House was a tremendous chore for me.  Mr. PJ is a large dog and I am not the strongest person.  I, too, have arthritis and helping the dog in and out was strenuous on me.  Son helped a good bit when he could but a lot of times the need was too urgent to wait for him to get here.  I toted the dog. One night, it was eleven times that I had to struggle to get the 67 pound dog out to potty.  Most of the time, there was not the true "urge" but rather hip and lower back pains making him think the outing was needed.  The poor animal was distraught and could not rest unless I was with him.  The first night, I sat near his bed and petted him for the entire night. The next morning, we made a visit to the vet.  Mr. PJ was checked and given a prescription but we were told that it would take several days for the pain to subside.  For two nights afterward, I slept on the floor consoling the pup. 

  Mr. PJ's health has been improving daily.  With the medicine in him, he is able to go up and down the steps.  He is happily taking long, albeit slow, hikes about the hillside again and, today, was elated to get on the pier.  His favorite napping spot had been sorely missed.  (I had been leery of his being over the water because he was stumbling a good bit.)  It is good to see my sweet friend being more active and looking happy again!

Another Great Day of Fishing....Not!

  My friend, Darlene, returned to the Bayou for yet another day of fishing.  Being a teacher, she was on Spring Break this past week and wanted as much "Fishing Therapy" as she could get. We have been doing relatively well and have caught a good many red drums, trout and croakers.  Of course, we caught our fair share of gafftopsails, catfish and other "trash" fish.  We never complain, though, since we both love to fish and it sure beats staining flooring boards.  She and I can sit for hours with a rod and reel in hand.

  Today, our fishing experience was just that...an experience.  First, the weather did not cooperate.  It was heavily overcast and COLD!!  The north wind proved to be quite icy over the water.  Then, we had a bird steal our bait.  The juvenile Great Blue Heron that has been begging handouts has taken to stealing as of late.  While we were not watching, that rascal emptied our bait bucket of all the little, live mullet except for one tiny one.  There is not much fishing going to happen without bait! I had to throw the net to catch more bait which was quite scarce due to the inclement weather.  I did, however, replenish our stash but nary a fish bit.  We did, however, make a couple of catches.

  About mid afternoon, Darlene said she had a "bite".  Sure enough, her line was being pulled out from the reel.  She jerked back only to say that it was weird.  Yep, a great description.  Instead of a bite, she had something rather different.  A snapping turtle had become tangled in her line.  It took a bit of doing but we finally got the critter untangled without losing a finger in the process.  My catch was just as bad, if not worse.  I really did catch a snapping turtle. That goofy critter ate my mullet...hook and all!  Reeling in a huge snapping turtle is not the easiest thing to do.  Those things weigh a ton!  It felt like I was hauling in a log.  

  The hook was actually embedded in the turtle's tongue but there was no way that I was going to stick my hands in that mouth to unhook it.  Knowing that we use a style of hook that is fast-rusting, I cut the line.  The large turtle slid back into the water.  I am sure that he will have a sore mouth for a few days but, after that, he should be fine.  He just needs to learn to stay away from my fishing line!  Oh, the things that we catch here on the Bayou!

The Pollen Makers

  The Pollen Makers...coming to your town soon!  Yep, here in the Deep South, we are experiencing that lovely "yellow" time of year.  It is definitely early but pollen is floating around causing everything to be yellow until the daily rain comes to wash it away.  It is also the time of year that a lot of folks are never without a tissue and their allergy pills simply because, once they see the yellow, they think they will soon be sniffling. 

  Just yesterday, a friend asked about the "yellow flowers" that could be seen from the roadside.  "Up in the trees, there are these bright yellow flowers!  What are they?  They sure make the woods pretty!"   Those, my friend, are not what you think.  The pine trees are doing their reproductive thing and have put out their soft cones.   From a distance, the funky "soft cones" do indeed look a lot like yellow flowers.  Soft cones are pollen producers (male cones) and depend on the wind to disperse the pollen to the female cones or hard cones.   Pine trees produce both soft and hard cones.  The soft cones (which people think are flowers) are on the lower branches of the trees with the hard cones on the upper branches.  This is to keep the pollen from just falling on the female cones and promotes fertilization with other trees.  

  Once my friend heard that these were not flowers but what were causing all of the pollen, an immediate dislike of the "flowers" occurred.  "Ugh!  Pollen!  All that does is cause allergies!"  Once again, an explanation was due.  Nope.  Pine pollen does not cause allergy attacks.  The pollen is actually good for you and can be found in health food stores and down the vitamin aisle of the drug store.  Trying to explain this to my friend was a lot like talking to a brick wall.  The worst thing pine pollen does is make your car yellow.

  So, the yellow flowers are not flowers. Not all pollen causes itchy, watery eyes and sniffles.  And some folks just do not listen to reason.  

More than one way....

  Back in the day, Pop would use some rather comical phrases when explaining something.  One that sticks out as quite odd is "There is more than one way to skin a cat."  I could never figure this one as Pop never skinned a cat in the first place so how in the world would he know more than one way.  Why not "More than one way to skin a hog....or deer....or steer....or rabbit...or squirrel...or even a frog"?  Those he skinned...we all did as part of work on the farm but skinning a cat...nope.  Never wanted to do that.  Cats were valuable workers on the farm and we could not afford to lose one.  So, I figure Pop must have heard this phrase as a kid and it stuck....just like me as the phrase pops out of my mouth as often as not.

  This afternoon, my friend came to the Bayou for a bit of "fishing therapy".  That is something that is good for what ails you.  (Another of Pop's favorite idioms.  He was good at throwing them out there when needed.)  My friend and I headed to the pier after doing some baking. After tossing out several lines, we sat back to have a bit of conversation.  It was not long before she got a nibble or what she refers to as a "tink".  "A tink", she explained to me, "is not a full bite but just an aggravating nibble."  She and the tinker played a game of cat and mouse for a while before she reared back and got the fellow.  "Aha!  I got you now, you little tinker mug!"  (So, now the fish graduated from being a tinker to being a tinker mug!)  Darlene played her fish well and brought up a stingray.  This is where that "more than one way" came into play.  She had not hooked her fish in the normal way via the mouth.  Somehow, she had snagged the fish in the pectoral fin that runs down along the edge of the fish.  The hook was nowhere near the mouth!  I guess there really is more than one way to skin a cat...catch a stingray!

  Once we unhooked the stingray, I noticed something poking out of its mouth.  Aww, poor thing!  That stingray had already been hooked before Darlene snagged it.  The fish had a hook embedded deep down in its gut from some previous fisherman.  There was no way that I could retrieve the hook without doing major damage to the fish so I just scooted him back into the water.  I sure hope the other fisherman had used the same kind of hooks that we use. We use hooks that rust to pieces in a matter of days so that if something like this happens, the fish does not suffer long.  Poor stingray!

A Little "Bayou Peace"

  Recently, a friend came to the Bayou wanting a bit of "peace".  She proclaimed that the Little Bayou House is her "happy place"...a place where life can be lived without stress.  While a few find the place not to their liking, most find it as a refuge.  To my way of thinking, if you cannot find serenity here, then the problem lies within you not with your surroundings.  

  Of course, after being here for a few hours, we wound up on the pier.  Fishing is always a good stress reliever!   Even though the weather was trying its best to throw a kink in our plans with high winds, we managed to get bait and even catch a few fish. Just as we were about to call it a day, she hooked into a regular "fighting fish".  This delighted her to no end.  The fish pulled on that drag and darted this way and that.  It hit the water's surface then dove down deep.  First, a major rush out to deeper water then a sharp turn to shore.  As a last resort, the fish headed under the pier.  Knowing that the line would most likely be cut on the barnacles that coat the pier posts, I told her to steer it out again.  She did and after a good fight, Darlene pulled the tired fish to the surface.  A loud "Whoop!  Look what I caught!!" burst forth.  Yep, she had a doozy!  The fighter turned out to be a small gar.  I grabbed the line and flipped the fish onto the pier.  

  After a few photographs documenting her catch, I set the camera down, grabbed the knife and turned to cut the line.  At that moment, the gar gave one last thrash and did its own cutting.  It laid loose on the pier.  Well, that made it easier!  I picked up the gar and tossed him back into the water.  Like a torpedo, the gar shot southward to deeper water.  I guess he was glad to be away from these two crazy ladies!

  With the fishing trip successful, my friend and I headed back to the Little Bayou House.  "I like it here.  It is so calming.  When I am here, my troubles all disappear." she murmured as she wandered from room to room.  Yep...my thoughts exactly.  If you cannot find peace and happiness at the Little Bayou House, then you do indeed have deep-seated problems.  

A Little "Bayou Therapy"

  A good friend of mine has had a tough ride these past few months.  I hated it for her but had no idea of how to help.  Words never seemed to be the right ones and never enough.  All I could do was offer my time to listen and to care.  We all need someone just to be there whether a single word is said or not.  

  Early this morning as I was out watering the garden, I heard a familiar voice.  My friend wandered around to the back of the house.  She knows me well enough to come hunting for me if I do not answer the door.  When she saw me, she said "I need a little "Bayou Therapy". Enough said.  I knew exactly what she meant.  She needed a bit of the serenity that can always be found here.  I turned off the water faucet and we headed to the pier.  It is easy to find placidity when on the water.  It sounds strange to say but sometimes being on the water can be the perfect shelter from an inner storm.  I knew it...she knew it.  

  At first, we just sat.  Nothing needed to be said.  Then after a bit, we talked.  Then, we fished.  As soon as the first trout was landed, her spirits lifted and she began to enjoy herself.  The Bayou was working its magic.  Peace was returning, troubles disappearing.  By the end of her visit, she went home in much better spirits, I had enjoyed my morning and she toted home a lovely bag of cleaned fish.  All in all, I would say that the Bayou Therapy worked once again.  

A Friendly Face

  It has been over a year since Ms. Ez left us.  Not having a dog has seemed strange in so many ways but I am still not ready to adopt another.  Several times, I admit, that I came close...so close but for some reason, it just never felt right.  Ms. Ez was such a big part of my life that her passing left a void that will not easily (if ever) be filled.  

  For the past few days as the family has gathered at the old homestead,  I have had the comfort of the friendship of another dog.  My son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren are here and have brought their dog, PJ.  He is a sweet old dog who was best friends with Ms. Ez.  They would romp together in the yard, snooze in the sun on the pier and chase every squirrel on the hill.  Time and distance could not tear them apart! Now, he is bringing comfort to me.  I happily let him sleep beside my bed or snooze on my feet as I sit in the rocking chair.  It feels right...not that I want another...but this just feels right.  Perhaps this is because PJ and Ez spent so much time together or perhaps is merely because I know this dog about as well as I did Ez.  Whatever the case, being able to reach down and pet him has made the holidays that much better.

  Thanks, PJ.  You are a good friend, indeed.  
 

Never Too Many Friends!

  It has been said many times that I have more critter friends than people friends.  Also said many times, I am good with this.  Critters seem to be far better along those lines than most people.  That said, I figure you never can  have too many friends so making a new one is always a happy time.  Today's new friend was a young Mourning Dove.
  
  Mark and I had taken our late afternoon stroll around the property and wound up on the pier (as usual).  Earlier, I had caught a nice trout which made me catch the "fishing fever".  With good intentions that never came to fruition, we abandoned the idea and headed back up the board path that leads from the pier to the Little Bayou House.  Along this path, a number of bird feeders dot the way.  Nary a bird could be found until the last feeder.  A solitary dove was scavenging for an evening snack. That sure looked like a small dove.  As we strolled up the path, the little bird never moved.  It just kept pecking at the last bit of seeds left by the other birds.  

  Well, I could not leave well enough alone.  Down on the ground, I plopped!  This little dove looked like it needed a friend so I figured it might as well be me.  While I sat there on the soft grass, the dove eased nearer and nearer to me until I could have reached out and touched it. Since this was a recent nestling, it probably had not developed a fear of humans yet.  Maybe it never would.  Doves are relatively relaxed when it comes to interacting with people.  They will nest as close to the front door as possible and can be coaxed to eat from your hand.  This little one was a prime candidate as a friend. 

  My only fear with the bird being so docile is that the Cooper's Hawk will swoop down to make a meal out of my new friend.  At daybreak, the hawk can be found in the hickory tree as it scopes out a possible target. Lately, a bird has been taken each morning.  It bothered me, at first, but then I came to realize that the hawk had a nest of little ones to feed and it was only doing what comes natural.  I stopped filling the feeders in hopes that the hawk would hunt elsewhere.  It worked for a while but now the predator is on the prowl again.  Be safe, new friend, be safe.

Getting Closer!

  Friend Owl is still coming to the same little sapling where I first found the bird.  Where it used to fly away when I ventured too near, I can now almost reach out and touch the bird.  Several times a day, I make the hike down behind the greenhouse to the marsh edge.  If the owl is not there, I can wait for just a few minutes and really listen, I can hear the soft rustle of branches as the bird silently flies to its perch.  Friend Owl comes to visit me so I talk to it and make it feel welcome.

  This tiny Screech Owl has become somewhat of a personal quest for me.  I am determined to make it realize that I mean no harm.  Obviously, the owl is as curious about me as I am it.  Obviously, it has overcome an fear of me.  Even more obvious, is the fact that the bird recognizes me. Still, the more I get to know the bird, the more I fear that it does have a vision problem.  

  Recently, I noticed that its perch is directly above a vole run.  An old rotted stump has several holes that lead deep underground.  The holes show evidence that they are active exits of a busy run.  Perhaps the tiny Screech Owl is able to catch voles as they come out of hiding at night. This would make me admire the bird even more.  The voles are my nemeses.  I abhor those critters simply because they ruin my garden with their tunneling and because they multiply at such a rapid rate.  With the Bayou Queen, Ms. Put, unable to fulfill her catlike duties due to age and failing health, perhaps the Screech Owl will take her place as Chief Rat-Killer.  

  In the meantime, I shall continue my trice daily hikes to the "owl sapling" to talk with a bird.  I will continue to offer it my friendship and will continue to hope for the best concerning its eyesight. I love this wee, little bird!

Sometimes things just fall in your lap!

  Years and years ago, Momie (my grandmother-in-law) told me a story of how when she lived behind Mark's family home, a snake fell right in her lap.  She had a small mobile home that was parked in their backyard so she could be nearby yet have her own little place.  It was great.  She could sit outside under the large pecan tree and watch her grandchildren play in the yard.  While out there, she usually snapped beans, shelled peas or peeled her potatoes for the evening meal.  Momie was the typical little lady of the times that wore house-dresses and aprons.  One day while snapping green beans, a green snake fell from the limbs of the pecan tree and landed smack dab on her lap!  She let out a scream, grabbed the corners of her apron and tossed the snake right back up into the tree!  While she giggled about the incident years later, at the time, she was terrified!  She hated snakes so to have one in her lap was not to her liking!

  Today, a dear friend came to the Bayou.  She and I picked berries, walked the hillside and sat on the pier all the while talking a blue streak! Later we moved to the wicker chairs in the rose garden.  There, our conversation continued and we covered just about everything under the sun.  She made the off-handed comment that she did not like snakes. She understood the fact that they are needed on this old earth and did not have a problem with them as long as they kept their distance. She always kept her eyes open when walking.  Good idea!  But I responded that there were probably more snakes up in trees than most folks realized.  That said, the unbelievable happened.

  Just moments after I had made the statement, she was startled by something in the oak tree behind me. At first, she thought a bird flew from the tree but soon realized that a "limb" was moving!  "That is no limb!  THAT is a snake!"  I turned just in time to see a rat snake slowly moving from the oak tree onto the rose arbor that extended over our heads.  Yep, more snakes are climbing about those trees!

  I was really proud of Darlene as she helped me to keep track of where the snake was making its way through the rose canes and onto the jasmine. As I photographed the snake, she kept pointing to where it was going next. When I tried to remove the snake, she showed no fear but was rather fascinated by the whole ordeal.  She was great!

  Later after she left the Bayou, I heard the blue jays starting up their racket.  I knew our friendly snake had made it to the Black Gum tree outside of the rose garden.  When I checked, the rat snake was making its way up the tree to find another hunting area.  I guess any birds or squirrels nearby had better keep their eyes open!  That snake was on the move!

Golden Moments

  It may seem to be a strange habit to some folks, but I search for all of the golden moments that I can find.  There are precious times in each day.  It is my goal to find and savor the golden moments that occur. Here lately, it seems that we are all too wound up in our lives to even sit back and reflect on just how good things are.  Not me.  I try to open my day each morning being thankful that I am alive and doing well.  Likewise, the day's end is met appreciating what I was given during the day.  This is a way of understanding that good times/bad times are all fleeting and to find a bit of happiness anywhere is a true blessing.  I find mine here on the Bayou.  Moments that make you appreciate life are what I call the golden moments.  I find a good many of these occurrences at sunrise.  It seems that there is a certain serenity at that time of day.  

  We have had very few days in the past month that I was able to get out to the pier to watch the sun rise above the pines or, for that matter, make an appearance at all.  Rainy days seemed to have been the norm so far for this winter.  Yet, there was one morning that was deemed most perfect.  It was full of those golden moments.  As matter of fact, the entire morning was golden.

  I arose before dawn and headed out to the pier. Without Ms. Ez, the old Bayou Dog, there to guide me, I had to tread carefully.  She would always nudge me away from slippery slopes so I would not fall.  Boy, I miss that dog!  Still, I did make it to the pier in time to watch the sun peep out of a bit of fog.  As it did, the entire Bayou and Bay were filled with a golden wash.  It was gorgeous!

  As I sat there staring out at the different waterfowl as they tried to find breakfast, I thought how that old dog would have loved this.  My golden moment was not just the sunrise and beauty around me but thoughts of my departed friend.  Ms. Ez was a golden moment.  Boy, I miss her.

Skipper-Hopper!

  Son and I were on the pier earlier when an old friend came to visit.  A few months back, a young Great Blue Heron was in dire need of a helping hand.  It had obviously been wounded (either by alligator or human).  Its foot had nigh on been amputated and was highly infected. The poor bird was unable to hunt for its supper.  It was starving to death.  I immediately called the animal rescue and received an unsatisfactory answer. "Let it alone.  It most likely will die but there are lots of herons so the loss of one won't matter."  How cruel!  I thought to myself that this was no animal "rescue" at all.  This made me more determined than ever to help the bird.  We all chipped in and caught plenty for the bird to eat.  It survived.  It thrived.  Regardless of the never healing foot, the bird lived and became a permanent fixture in the area.

  This was the same bird that came to visit today.  Dubbed "Skipper-Hopper by Darling Daughter and her husband, the heron has grown.  It now has its adult plumage and is gorgeous.  If one did not know better, the heron seems like a perfectly healthy bird.  

  All of this just goes to show that, occasionally, a helping hand is needed.  This friend in need has become a friend indeed.  Today the bird showed me how it can catch mullet and feed itself.  We will still offer it assistance whenever it comes to visit but at least we know it can survive. I will NEVER ignore an animal in need and believe "the loss of one won't matter."  All life matters.

Goodbye to a Dear Friend

  Ms. Ez, the Bayou Dog was a fine friend. For the past week, the old dog has been very ill.  Trips to the vet and to the Pet ER did nothing more than make her comfortable.  I am wholly grateful for that as her remaining time was at least close to being pain free.  While the doctors have yet to be able to diagnose her situation, I have almost come to the conclusion that she ate another mushroom and this one was not a good one.  Her symptoms led the doctors to believe she had complete liver failure and the beginnings of kidney failure.  Although her remaining time with us was short, it was filled with more love than could possibly fit in such a short time.  We did everything we could to make her happy and perhaps return a little of the happiness that she brought into our lives.  

  On her final day, she actually rallied a bit and was able to walk about the hillside.  She literally begged to go to the pier.  Like it is mine, that was her favorite place.  She labored to make it all the way to the bench but she was determined and would not let me carry her.  The old dog would occasionally lean against me for support.  Once there, she basked in the bright sunshine and seemed perfectly content as we watched the seagulls and pelicans. 

  Later in the afternoon, Darling Daughter came by and sat with Ms. Ez. This was a special treat for the dog.  Her tail thumped against the floor the whole time.  All was good.  Ms. Ez had such a contented look on her face.  The love between the two was evident. Elizabeth was the one that had rescued Ezzy from certain death when she was a wee pup.  It was only fitting that they had time together to share love that spanned the dog's entire lifetime. Afterwards Ms. Ez rested.

  At dusk, I could tell that things were not good.  I tried to let her out for a final time but she fell against me on the steps.  I carried the 55 pound dog back inside.  She was heavy but my heart was heavier.  I knew she would not see the next sunrise.  My sweet friend was leaving this world. I sat on her bed with the dog on my lap.  Mark sat with her stroking her soft ears.  He told her how much she meant to us and how we had been blessed that she came to be part of our family. Once again, love was shared between animal and human. 

  Right at eight o'clock, Son came to have some quiet time with her.  By this time, her breathing was becoming labored and it was evident that the pain was starting to grow. We held her.  We stroked her fur.  We consoled her with loving words.  At nine o'clock on the dot, she took her last breath in the arms of both me and Son. The very moment she drew that last breath, Keesler Air Force Base played Taps.  I thought of how this, although pure coincidence, was so touching.  Ms. Ezzy had a habit of seemingly standing at attention when the Base would play the National Anthem.  She would automatically stop whatever she was doing and stand facing the direction of the music.  For the entirety of the song, she stood not moving.  As soon as it was over she would leap up and prance about a bit.  I always was amazed at this but now, Taps seemed somehow fitting.

  Goodbye, my friend.  The hikes to the pier at sunrise will not be the same.  I am sure that I will be at a loss for a while without you but I am thankful that you are not suffering.  Godspeed, Little One.  You were a loyal friend indeed.  I will so miss you.

The Frog Friend

  Last night, I wrote about the Froggy Hotel and its residents.  It seems that a number of frogs and toads love to live in the hollow stump that we placed in the Frog Pond.  I suppose it gives them a feeling of safety from any predators.  The only true danger they would face is a snake.  If a moccasin decided to make a raid upon the residents of the pond, the stump would appear to become more of a trap than a haven.  Last night, I also stated that a new frog had moved into the pond.  Its loud croak was quite different than the rest and is what called my attention to its presence.  Darkness set in before I could identify my visitor so the quest had to be postponed until today.

  Mark and I were out back picking the Boysenberries when I noticed Froggy had picked up his singing once again.  I eased to the Frog Pond for a sighting of the elusive critter.  Ahh, he was not in hiding this afternoon!  In fact, the frog seemed rather tame.  I quickly identified the frog as a Bronze Frog (also, known as a Green Frog depending upon the area and the coloring of the particular frog.)  As I photographed the pretty little fellow, he never made a move to escape.  He sat staring at me as if to ask me for a meal.  Well, to that, I must oblige.  I caught a few grasshoppers and tossed them in his general direction.  He took kindly to my actions and quickly snatched the insects.  He seemed pleased so I caught a few more.  These, too, were gobbled with haste.  Froggy never moved other than to catch the bugs.

  It is my intention to head out to the Frog Pond early in the morning to see if the frog is still there.  Perhaps if I feed him a few more grasshoppers, he will accept my friendship.  Some folks despise frogs in their ponds because they eat a lot of the pond fish.  Me?  I like the frogs better than fish.  I do not have to feed the frogs except when I want!  Froggy, you are welcome to stay in the Froggy Hotel for as long as you like!